


An Indecent Proposal

by Silential



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bottom Hux, General Hux is not nice, Grad School AU, Hux has a crush, I promise this is not a science dump, M/M, art by punkidrawsstuff, fantasies, grad student Ben, handjobs, inappropriate use of power, look at these snarky af assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working towards a PhD in engineering was difficult enough without Hux on his thesis proposal committee. But with his funding at stake, Ben would do anything - even write inane weekly reports, meet personally with the man, and put up with his power trips and ego. The worst part was that as insufferable as Hux was, Ben couldn't get him out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the amazing [punkidrawsstuff](http://punkidrawsstuff.tumblr.com/) ! (Also, come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr too)

 

In a normal situation, the candidate was usually the first one to show up.

They’d arrive twenty, maybe thirty minutes early, laden with laptop and cords and backup notes of backup notes. Bags looped over their arms, brimming with treats and cardboard boxes of coffee meant to silently appease the committee ruling on their dissertation proposal. A regular one-man caravan, they expected to roll into the empty conference room, arrange it to their liking, spread out their offerings, and, maybe most importantly, collect their thoughts and steady the pulse-pound in their chests.

Which is why it was especially odd that the conference room already had an occupant when Ben, back against the heavy wood, pushed open the door.

Ben missed him at first.

Preoccupied with balancing cords and the box of donuts on his laptop, held on the shelf of one bent arm while the other hand carried the real jewel of the operation, a gallon of liquid alertness that he hoped might suffice as an apology for the 8 AM start time. It hadn’t fucking been his idea, of course, but he’d been forced to take whatever the committee could coordinate. Getting four professors’ schedules to line up was like herding cats, and that was when one of them wasn’t Luke Skywalker, master of the long vacation and working from home.

If _working_ was really the term that should be used when their lab was flat broke and hadn’t managed to snag a grant since his first year. Because, obviously, that would mean that Luke would have had to file an _application_ , and that meant _working_ – hence the dilemma.

Luke had tenure and enough publications and patents to his name to rest on his laurels. It was really the only explanation why the department continued to pay Ben’s stipend.

Honestly, Ben would be happy – and frankly a little surprised – if Luke fucking showed up at all. He hadn’t conversed with the man much beyond email for _months_ now.

Setting his burden down on the table, Ben pulled crossly at the lapels of his jacket. He fucking hated these things, hated the way they inched up his too-long arms and cost entirely too much at a specialty store catering to guys of his height. The button-up underneath pulled tightly across his chest and restricted the range of motion of his shoulders. He was a man who liked to be able to _move_ , and the smothering prison of a suit was a one way ticket to clammy and ornery. Worse yet it was a dark blue, probably the first color other than black he’d worn since his qualifier exams three years before. It was the only one he had though, and all that about beggars and whatnot.

It was the soft _click click click_ that snapped him from his discomfort-induced reverie.

Head cracking upward, his gaze landed on the man seated in the row of chairs at the back, typing rapidly on the laptop open on his knees. Flame gold hair slicked neatly back, he looked to be about Ben’s age, though really he’d always been crap at determining years. The black blazer and silver button-up underneath put him worlds away from Ben’s barely held together appearance. Pale and handsome, even if the image was a bit tarnished by the scowl that made him look like there might have been something up his ass. Ben was visited by a quick mental picture of the possibilities – a thought he roughly shoved to the back of his head.

He wasn’t someone he recognized from the department and Ben had personally hand-picked his committee members; while this was technically an open examination, Ben hadn’t expected much of an audience. 

Rey for sure, as his only group mate and the presenter directly after him she was mandated to come. Possibly a few others from the office, though more for the free food than for the two presentations. Maybe Finn, if she overrode his protests and dragged him along. It wasn’t like Ben cared if the latter came, but he knew Rey.

Glancing to the clock above the door, Ben cleared his throat a little more roughly than he meant to. _8:30._ He had wanted this time to himself, thank you, to try to lasso his heart into a respectable beat and batten down the hatches of his anxiety.

There was a lot riding on securing this military grant. Not to mention it was a milestone examination, and he had no intention of failing.

“This room is reserved.”

The other man didn’t even bother looking up, merely stating, “I am quite aware.”

The faint tinge of a British accent laced his words, and while Ben never ascribed to the whole British-as-haughty stereotype, this guy certainly nailed it. British _and_ grimacing, it was like he was really trying. Bristling a little at the lack of acknowledgement, Ben forced himself to breathe, knowing the last thing he – and his only chance at funding – needed was for him to blow a gasket before he’d even really started.

On a good day it didn’t take much to ignite the ever kerosene-soaked fuse of his temper, much less one where he was keyed up from too much nerves and not enough sleep. He’d been up half the night making changes to his presentation.

Instead of snapping back, Ben shrugged tightly instead and began arranging his things, bringing the coffee and donuts to the side table. He’d forgotten plates, and napkins, but at least he’d remembered cups, and really that was all that mattered. How long did it honestly take to eat a donut anyway, that you needed to put it down?

He then plugged in his laptop, booted up the projector and his computer, all while studiously ignoring the frenetic pace of _click click click_ that emanated from the back. Given that the conference room was rather tiny, it took a great deal of effort to keep his gaze from wandering where it most wanted to go. But small-talk wasn’t an interest or a skill he possessed, and from the look of the other man, neither did he. Pulling out the chair closest to the head of the table, Ben fell heavily into it.

He tried closing his eyes and breathing as some therapist had attempted to teach him at some point, somewhere along the yellow brick road of appointments and pill bottles. It failed miserably, and he settled for jiggling his knee under the table instead, fists scrunched in the material of his jacket.

Time trickled by, moving both entirely too slowly and hyperdrive fast. Around 8:50 the first of his professors walked in, an elderly man with a ruddy complexion everyone in the department inexplicably referred to as _the Admiral_. Ben didn’t know the story behind that one; he’d just fallen into line with the rest of the department and picked up the moniker. An expert in rheology, he was nice enough, and Ben wasn’t expecting any overly hard lines of questioning from him.

Depositing his overcoat on the back of a plush Stiner chair, the Admiral bade him good morning and made to pour himself a cup of coffee, delicately balancing a donut on top of the open cup.

A few members of the office walked in and predictably made a beeline for the food, a motion that the Admiral seemed to find very humorous. Chuckling to himself, he sat in his chair and thumbed over his shoulder, saying, “I see you set a trap for an audience.”

Ben smiled rigidly at the joke, his knee going like a jackhammer. At the edge of his hearing, the unmistakable tapping of a keyboard still pulled at his attention. The mystery man hadn’t even looked up.

Two more professors ambled in soon after, already talking. His out-of-department committee member was a solemn faced dark-haired woman from Biomedical Engineering, an MD-PhD. He didn’t know her, in fact the first time he’d met with Dr. Kalonia was to request her presence on his committee, so she was technically a wild card. Her conversation partner was exactly the opposite – a young professor, not even tenured yet, Poe was a polymer science guru that had proven very helpful the past couple years. It had been almost mandatory to include him on the committee.

With three professors down, there was only one to go – and, of course, General Hammond, their military guest. Ben had met with him a couple times before in lieu of Luke, sketching out the project and conveying some promising early results. The hope was that after seeing his – and Rey’s, he absently noted – progress, they’d secure enough funding to transition to proper animal model work.

And, of course, to keep the lab open and the lights on.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door opened with a bang and Rey nearly fell through it, her own laptop clutched to her chest as cords trailed down over her arms and shoulders like vines. She winced at the sound, muttering an apology and heading for a seat along the perimeter of the room. Finn trailed in behind her, carrying a large paper bag and another gallon of coffee. At least she’d remembered the plates and other accoutrements, Ben conceded, watching as the two other grad students unloaded the contents of the bag. It covered for his oversight.

It was 9:00 on the dot and everyone had taken their seats, munching and talking – or typing, if you were the man in the back – when Luke finally saw fit to grace them with his presence.

Ben let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

Pushing back from the table, he tried to ignore the clamminess of his palms. He stood awkwardly at Luke’s side, towering over him and shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

“Welcome, everyone,” Luke began calmly, “Ben, Rey, and I would like to thank you all for coming to their dissertation proposal examinations. For those of you who might not be familiar, they’ll each give a forty-five minute presentation on their past research and proposed experiments for their thesis, and we’ll open up the floor for questions for about an hour or so. Sorry folks, it’s going to be a long morning.”

The room chuckled softly at that, knowing looks exchanged between the members of his committee. Other than Poe, this wasn’t their first rodeo.

“Before we begin, I’d just like to offer special thanks to General Brendan Hux,” a stone dropped into Ben’s gut as Luke gestured to the hitherto mystery man in the back, who finally closed his laptop with a resounding snap and a flashed smile, “for joining us today as the fifth member of Ben and Rey’s committee. General Hammond has decided to retire and General Hux will be taking over his position as the head of the Institute.”

Ben’s mouth went dry at the information, railing against whatever deity was listening that the soft-on-the-inside General Hammond had been replaced with the thoroughly calcified younger man. During his introduction Hux had slipped into a chair at the table from his position in the back, a thick sheaf of paper in his hands – Ben’s report.

Oblivious to his growing distress, Luke kept on talking. “First up this morning is going to be Ben Solo.” Rounding home, his adviser sped through the usual introduction. “He’s a current fourth year who received his undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering at Northwestern, before going into industry for a few years at – Merck, was it?”

Ben nodded curtly, nerves causing his joints to rust.

“Right, yes, Merck. Today he’ll be talking about the use of a polymer for blood loss. So without further ado, let’s get started.”

As Luke took his seat, Ben tried to hammer the line of his mouth into some sort of smile. At the opposite head of the table, Hux only stared back with cool indifference, his pen already poised to begin writing.

Before Ben realized, his mouth was open. “Good morning, everyone.”

 

\------

 

“So it’s not been tested in vivo yet.” Hux was leaning back in his chair, body twisted and resting mostly on one hip. His tone was cutting.

“No it definitely has. It’s just, not with significant numbers of animals, as I said –“

A hand stopped his words, slim with long fingers. “So how do you know it will even work?”

“Because it did work. I performed the surgery on one mouse, and preliminary results suggest they will.”

The General perused through the written copy of his report, highlighted and marked in red ink. There was more red ink than black ink on the pages, Ben observed grimly. “ _Suggest_ is even too strong a word. Suggest implies you have proper controls and sample sizes greater than _one_. I see nothing that _suggests_ so.”

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the eyes of the crowd boring into his body as the tension seethed just underneath the surface like a pit of snakes. The General had crawled through every page of his report, critiquing every comment, every line, and asking ridiculously specific and difficult questions about everything Ben had expressly hoped his committee would _not_ press him on.

It was like the man had a sixth sense for academic weak spots.

And they hadn’t even gotten to his proposed work yet, which was supposed to be the entire point of this exercise.

No one else had even gotten a word in edgewise, and it had been thirty minutes. Poe had tried, but Hux had barreled right over his interjection like a heat-seeking missile. In this case, of course, the heat was definitely the hot flush of blood in Ben’s face and the roar of barely contained frustration in his veins.

“I’ve performed full characterization of the polymer solution, and it’s been biocompatible with multiple cell lines by every metric. Injection into representative solution systems and ex vivo tissue _suggests_ ,” Ben bit out, “that the polymer should rapidly encourage hemostasis even more efficiently than natural blood clotting factors. As I showed you, I can cut an artery and close it up again without loss of life.”

“Fibrinogen solutions are hardly a replacement for vasculature. And your mouse experiment lacked every conceivable control.” Hux flipped through the pages, adding, “Why only ex vivo? Why only one mouse?”

His fist slammed down on the table, making everyone in the room jump. Everyone but Hux, that was.

“Because mice are fucking expensive.” _And we can get the cast-offs from Leia’s lab when they’re done with their mouse experiments_.

A giggle came from the peanut gallery, cut off as Rey tried to stifle her amusement. Ben didn’t need to glance in Luke’s direction to feel his glower.

Hux only leveled a measured glare, ignoring the invective. “So valuable too are the lives of soldiers, Mr. Solo.”

Unable to respond to that, because _of fucking course, what was he, a monster?_ Ben kept his mouth firmly shut and nodded in agreement. He was trying to help people; it was why he’d left a decent salary and reputation to work long hours for peanuts and little thanks in academia.

At least if anything, his quiet acceptance seemed to pacify Hux, who did not feel the need to press the matter further. Instead, he flipped forward a few pages, asking, “On page 20, Figure 4.1. Can you comment about –“

“With all due respect, General,” the Admiral ‘s voice creaked to life, “In the interest of time, I wonder if further questions may be directed to Ben at a later time. This examination is a _committee_ venture.”

Hux’s mouth slowly closed, but barely a second passed before it tore itself in two. The wan grin belied his conciliatory words, “Of course. By all means, I welcome hearing the rest of the committee’s thoughts.” 

A maestro without his baton, Hux waved the rest of them to continue like he’d planned to do so all along.

And continue it did.

The rest of the committee was substantially less difficult than its leading member, offering constructive criticism on his plan as only those who had seen it all could – and, seemingly within the blink of an eye Ben had packed up his things and helped Rey set up hers. He barely paid attention to her presentation, having seen it ten times before, and instead found his gaze almost pinned to the man sitting at one end of the table.

He looked goddamn good in profile, Ben grudgingly acknowledged. Full lipped with delicate lashes and defined cheekbones, the kind a traitorous part of his mind wouldn’t have minded seeing held against the sheets of his bed. One hand on the back of his neck, fingers splayed along his jaw – he could see the way those eyelashes would flutter closed at each sharp thrust, hard enough that the General wouldn’t be sitting so elegantly the day after. And Ben could think of something that would efficiently keep that mouth busy; Hux couldn’t ask questions if he was moaning around Ben’s cock.

Sure, the thought was petty, but in his stewing fury it brought a modicum of satisfaction all the same. Satisfaction and more than a little lust, if he wanted to admit to himself.

Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn’t realize Rey had finished until the rest of the room was clapping, his own hands reflexively joining in.

Luke stood up as the applause died down, shoulder to shoulder with Rey as a warm smile graced his face. It didn’t even diminish as he surrendered the floor once more to their military partner. “So if there are no more questions from the peanut gallery, as usual, we’ll allow our outside guest to begin. General, if you would.”

Hux lifted the loose leaf of Rey’s report, substantially less marked than his had been Ben noted, and shuffled it neatly into place. If Ben had expected him to lead with the sharp edge of his tongue, he disappointed greatly.

The questions Hux asked, while not exactly easy, were still miles and miles below the Everests he’d launched at Ben. And he only took up nine minutes; nine, Ben knew, because he timed it on his phone. Pencil springing back and forth between two fingers, something to keep his hand busy, Ben felt his temper rising.

“I have no further questions.”

Ben stiffened, sitting ramrod straight in his chair as the pencil came to be gripped in two hands. Glancing at the General, Ben was shocked to see something akin to warmth in his smile. It was like watching Hell warmed over.

And worse yet, Hux had a voice you could _hear_ a smile in, the harshness softened. If Ben wasn’t immensely jealous already, he would have found a second shot pumped through his bloodstream. Hux was speaking, slightly crooked lips saying, “And I’d just like to say, fantastic work, Ms. Kenobi. Your research into fluid Kevlar alternatives is very promising.”

An audible crack pierced the room.

The part of his brain not seeing red was as confused as everyone else until the realization hit him, the slim wood in his hands now in two distinct pieces with a jagged cleft in the middle.

Luke’s glare jumped to his, the man’s mouth constricting into a grim line. Ben could practically _hear_ his thoughts telegraphed directly to his brain, his adviser’s ire combating his own. _Don’t screw this up, Ben, she’s our one good chance after the stunt you pulled earlier_.

Unlike the rest of his committee, Hux didn’t bother glancing in his direction.

Still processing the compliment, Rey’s mouth fell open a bit before she hastily shut it, her gaze momentarily shooting to Ben’s before back to the General. “Yeah, wow, thank you.”

Ben knew that Rey’s presentation had been good, but _come fucking on_ it hardly had been better than his. She’d spent more time on it, sure, and her transitions had been a little more polished and less like the jerks of an automaton – but the work was what _mattered_ , even if Hux couldn’t see it. And Ben knew his project was not only more difficult but his science more rigorous to boot. Rey dealt with shear-thickening fluids; she didn’t have to come within sixty feet of the statistical hell-pit that was cell culture or mouse model work.

In fact, she got to take field trips to the gun labs to fire bullets at buckets of what was basically glorified corn starch and water.

And now, she got _this_.

 

\-----

 

It popped up on the whiteboard in the shared graduate student office the next day.

A crude stick figure drawing, the participants recognizable only by the mess of black and shock of red shading meant to convey their relative hair styles. That, and the arrows helpfully connecting _GENERAL GINGER_ and _BEN THE TECHNICIAN_ to the two forms, one of which was, apparently, violently pounding the other in the ass.

With dismay, Ben reflected that it was not the way he would have preferred it.

Or, given the rather vivid and angry dreams he’d had the night before, apparently envisioned it.

He was still staring when the sound of the lock mechanism turning in the door behind him screeched out, and Rey stepped beside his shoulder a moment later. Her head tilted, brows furrowing.

“Ouch.”

The simplicity of it almost had him laughing, and for a second he forgot why he was supposed to be angry with her. It wasn’t exactly fair of him, he reflected, but envy coiled hot and tight in his stomach all the same. She was younger than him for Christ’s sake – a good deal younger – and, taking the golden train from undergraduate studies to grad school, she had never even worked outside the ivory tower of academia. He wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was smarter, honestly he believed the opposite might have been the case, but he’d built the Taj Majal on a shoestring budget and it wasn’t fair that he was getting punished for what wasn’t _his_ fault.

“Yeah, well,” he said tersely. Finn had probably drawn it, though he couldn’t prove it.

She sighed, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Look, it’s going to be okay.”

“ _You_ can say that. It’s almost guaranteed you passed.”

 “And you don’t know you didn’t.” Wincing, the concern on her face was harder to take than anything. “Though about that, I came in to tell you Luke wants us down in his office.”

_Christ_. “Now?”

“Now.”

The walk to Luke’s office was dead silent, punctured only by the sounds of her sneakers and the shuffling of his own feet. Knocking on the closed door, Luke summoned Rey in first, and she slipped inside with an apologetic glance thrown his way. Ben waited in the hallway as they spoke, the soft indistinct hum of voices permeating the wood to reach his ears.

Ten minutes passed, and for the first time Ben wished he actually had a smart phone. Anything to whittle away the time crawling by.

The door finally opened and sent his heart racing, especially at the wide grin currently splitting Rey’s face. He could see her literally bite back the desire to envelop him in a hug, a fact for which he was grateful for; if ever he was less in a mood for a hug, it was now.

“I passed! And I’m getting funded!”

He forced himself to smile. “That’s great.”

“Ben, you’re up,” Luke called from inside his office, and Ben watched as Rey patted him once more before practically skipping away.

_No doubt to go tell Finn the good news_ , Ben thought darkly. God above he despised her boyfriend.

Passing over the threshold, Ben was assaulted by the smell of old books and quite frankly, the must of an old, unused glorified storeroom left closed up for entirely far too long. Spartan and dusty, there was no way to miss the layer of grime that seemed to cover everything that hadn’t been moved recently. Which, of course, was almost the entire contents of the small, poorly lit room. Idly, he wondered if Luke avoided using his office because it was too close to those of Ben’s parents.

He wasn’t really aware of what had happened between his uncle and mother, and he didn’t care enough to ask. He’d managed to glean enough to connect it to the death of his grandfather a few years back – something about the inheritance, if he recalled correctly. Despite his love for his grandfather, family drama wasn’t his forte; he had enough of his own.

Luke sat stiffly at his desk, hands clasped in front of him. The sight itself was bizarre. Luke, in his office, dressed in more than his bathrobe and a pair of loafers. Cracking the seal formed by his entwined fingers, his adviser gestured for him to take the lone seat on the opposite side.

“Well.”

“Well,” Ben parroted back.

“You passed.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot upwards, and he couldn’t disguise the pleasant shock in his tone. It shattered the grimness he’d been wearing like a cowl all day. “That’s… surprising.”

“Yes, quite.” Luke glanced down at his folded hands before returning to meet his gaze once more. “Even more surprising is that the General has agreed to fund you. On a probationary set of terms, that is.”

Still in shock he was not going to be asked to leave the department or pay for his studies out of pocket, Ben could barely process the second clause of his pronouncement. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Luke sternly explained, “that you are to write up weekly reports of your research and submit them to General Hux for review. You also are now required to meet personally with General Hux in his office to discuss your progress. While I actually thought your work was good, he was… concerned about your ability to complete it.”

The words darted out before he could stop them. “Yeah, well, he’s an idiot.”

_If a very attractive one._  

Luke scoffed, shaking his head. “You sound like your father.”

Ben stiffened at the remark, his expression darkening. Some men took that as a compliment – he was not one of them.

Either ignorant or uncaring of the direction of his thoughts, Luke continued, “And no, Ben, he’s actually not. He has a Master’s in mechanical engineering and has participated in some research of his own. So before you shut down on this, I encourage you to think very, very hard about trying to work constructively with General Hux.”

Ben could feel the shackles clicking into place around his hands, effectively binding him into a situation he could not have envisioned going more poorly. Inclining his head, he bit out, “Sure thing.”

If the door slammed on the way out hard enough to rattle the frosted panes –

Well, that wasn’t his fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing [punkidrawsstuff](http://punkidrawsstuff.tumblr.com/) ! (Also, come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr too)

If there was one thing Ben resented, it was micro-management.

Especially micro-management by a source with literal zero justification for such a level of control. Master’s or not, there was no reason for the military to be butting into the sanctity of his work. Sure they controlled the purse strings now, so some oversight was to be expected, but weekly reports? A monthly meeting? That was excessive.

Not to mention that the General was apparently personally offended by Ben’s entire existence and yet _still_ wanted to subject himself to his presence.

Stepping out o  the cab door, Ben didn’t know what he had expected. Golden filigree, glass columns – something to justify the level of superiority the General wore like an imperial cloak about his shoulders.

Instead he was presented with a nondescript four story building off one of the main downtown drags, indistinguishable from a former Soviet apartment building and about as hopeless looking. There was a single guard posted beyond the double door entrance, he discovered, engrossed in whatever game was on his radio.

Said guard barely spared a glance as he passed, nodding at his claim to be there to see General Hux. While it was certainly true, Ben felt for one lurid second like he’d exercised some level of subconscious mind power, every step past the guard booth seeming more and more like a victory. With his height and seemingly perpetual forbidding demeanor, he got stopped everywhere – airports, sporting events, checkpoints, didn’t matter.

But this time he walked into the lobby, rode the elevator, and strode towards Hux’s office like his livelihood didn’t depend on it.

He knocked with as much dignity as he could muster, pushing inside with the muffled summons coming from the other side. As much as he wanted to throw open the door, Ben didn’t, merely opened it and stepped inside.

Hux’s office was much like Hux himself – neat, orderly, and deceptively quiet. Little adornment marked the walls and there wasn’t so much as a single photograph in the entire place. A single shelf of books lined one wall, probably military texts if Ben could guess, but it was the faux mahogany of the General’s desk that occupied the most prominent position in the room. Fully laden without being cluttered, it smacked of everything in its proper place. Stacked bins stood sentinel on one side, the large monitor on the other.

Ben didn’t have organizational bins. He had a garbage bin, and that was about it.

Everything else just got tossed onto his desk until he remembered why he needed it.

In what Ben was quickly coming to see was his signature move, Hux didn’t look away from his screen as Ben crossed the drab carpet, taking one of the two chairs before Hux even offered. He’d like to get this over with, not least of all because the hard-backed chair had him shifting his legs awkwardly to fit. Long limbs were great and all, until one had to find pants or manage a chair meant for a normal person.

On the lengthy itemized list of things that rankled Ben to no end, having his time wasted – especially as some sort of petty power play – was definitely up there. Trying to keep his tone in check, he bit out, “So, do I talk first or you talk first? I talk first?”

That at least caught Hux’s attention, green eyes sliding from the monitor to meet his own. Now that he was up close, Ben found himself admiring the contrast, delicately golden lashes against such fiercely hard eyes. _Traitor_ , he whispered to himself.

“That depends,” smugness dripped from every word, “do you have anything worth speaking about?”

His striking gaze aside, the passing month clearly hadn’t done anything to improve the General’s mood. If irritation wasn’t sizzling just under the too-hot collar of his skin, Ben might have decided against riling Hux further. As it was, he couldn’t be made to care.

“Shouldn’t you already know?” Ben fired back. “If I’m being forced to write these reports, at least tell me you’re bothering to read them.”

Hux’s gaze narrowed, smugness evaporating. “Unfortunately for you, yes I am. And I think we need to have a chat about what is expected of you in them.”

“And what’s ‘expected of me’ then?”

“Professionalism, for one,” the words falling in fat condescending drops. “Consistent use of terminology, logical explanation of your results and thought process – seriously, why is it that a fourth year grad student can’t seem to write technically? Or at _all?”_

And then, with a sourness that implied he found it personally insulting, Hux added, “It wasn’t even proof-read. _”_

Stunned, Ben could only sit there. He had spent the bare minimum amount of time on them, and sure, it might have been at two in the morning when he couldn’t sleep, but he hadn’t thought them _that_ bad. He wanted to say as much, defend himself and launch back a few taunts of his own, but what ended up coming out instead was an incredulous, “What are you even _doing_ here?”

Hux blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Shouldn’t you be off on a base somewhere – you know, doing things that are actually important?” Already in deep from the looks of it, Ben didn’t hold back. “Or did you just take this job for the cushy promotion? You’re a little young to be a general, I think.”

The red-rust color beginning to dust high on Hux’s cheeks had Ben caught between satisfaction and inexplicable regret, wondering if he’d hit a little too close to home. Well good, he figured, it was about time one of his blows landed someplace soft, unguarded. Lord knew Hux had relentlessly exposed and speared each chink in his own armor.

Tone trying for cold and unaffected, it came out too high, too brittle to be anything but most definitely affected. “No matter what you or others might believe of me, I take pride in my work. This _is_ important, Mr. Solo.”

Figuring that Hux had no right to look so fetching, red-faced and pinned somewhere between offended and self-conscious, Ben grit his teeth. “It’s Ben. Mr. Solo is my father.”

“Well, _Ben_ ,” Hux began, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “if you must know, technological progress interests me more than combat. The military happens to offer unique opportunities to make that happen.”

Curiosity edging in on and blunting slightly the barb of his frustration, Ben wondered if he’d ever even seen active duty. With the carefully ironed dress shirt and no doubt matching pressed slacks – not that Ben had thought much about the fit of Hux’s slacks, of course – he figured it was doubtful the General had seen anything beyond war games.

“Then you should allow me to work, actually _work_ , not bog me down with these stupid reports. Maybe then I’d make _progress_.”

Rey, after all, was completely unburdened beyond the typical yearly update.

Hux scoffed, color finally fading from his cheeks as he reasserted the haughtiness he wore like a glove. Whatever purchase Ben had found in peeling back that armor was lost now. “Somehow I doubt that. I’ve seen your work when you’re left to your own devices. Now that we are funding your project, we expect real results. And,” he leaned in, “if you want to continue receiving funding, you will abide by my rules. Is that understood?”

Hearing the threat loud and clear, Ben felt the proverbial rug beneath his toes and how easy it would be for Hux to pull it out from under him. He was too far into the chasm that was his degree to risk being asked to leave.

A thousand emotions were squashed and balled up into one word. “Fine.”

“Good. I’ll send you my corrections on the reports you’ve submitted thus far. I’ve included my expectations and suggested template for the future.” Head tilting, Hux appraised him with an expression Ben couldn’t categorize, box and label like the engineer inside of him wanted to. “If you do this properly, I anticipate this arrangement continuing for quite some time.”

“How wonderful.” A beat. “Are we done here?”

“Unless you would like me to walk you through said corrections?” Maybe he was projecting, but Ben swore he heard the faintest bit of _hope_ in the question.

Ben didn’t have to fake his shudder. “I’ll pass.”

“Then you can see yourself out,” Hux’s lip twitched, but to call it a grin might be too generous, “ _Ben._ ” 

Rising hastily from his chair, while simultaneously trying to look like he was doing anything but, Ben figured that even if the meeting had been a waste of time, at least it hadn’t wasted all that much of it. That had been what he was hoping for, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t until later, the door closing on his heel as the outside sunlight hit his eyes, that Ben found a phrase worming its way back into his head. _No matter what you or others might believe of me_ , Hux had said.

Well that was interesting. Someone had an inferiority complex.

\----

Hux’s glare cut into him.  

The fact that it came from only a hand’s length away didn’t help matters; everyone knew a glare decayed as 1/r. And this close, both bent over the array of papers scattered across the desk, Ben picked up the flecks of gold in the man’s irises, melding with the fiery tint of his hair like some sort of goddamn _aesthetic_. 

No one had a right to be this lovely.

Or this insufferable.

“Any scientist with any competency,” the word spat like the insult it was, “knows not to trust something with too small a sample size.”

After the way the past forty minutes had gone, Ben had to agree. Sample size was everything.

If he’d thought his first meeting to have been adversarial, Ben quickly discovered the judgment to be completely shaped by his lack of experience with the man perched across from him, almost vibrating with puritanical rage on the edge of his seat. Ben had tried to curb his fits of anger over the years, minimize the number of times he got into someone’s face, but Jesus if Hux didn’t make it so goddamn difficult. If the overwhelming desire to punch someone had been difficult to subdue, the desire to pack that rage into a kiss was even worse.

The first meeting, Hux must have been in a _good_ mood.

“I have several possible experimental setups and I was trying to choose between them,” Ben argued in response, the sheer effort of keeping his tone even expressed in the death-hold he’d taken on his jeans. “That’s why it’s called a pilot study.”

“I know what a pilot study is,” Hux fired back like a crossbow. 

“Really? Because it doesn’t seem like it. A pilot study is a perfectly acceptable course of action.”

The General raked across the report he’d printed out, again marked up with that blasted red pen. God Ben fucking despised red pen – the very sight now was enough to set a flame under his blood. Now he felt he had a better understanding of why so many over-involved PTA parents crusaded against its use.

“I don’t disagree. If anything, and Christ help me,” fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m suggesting you’ve limited yourself too much to the point where the data you recorded is useless.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open. “So you nag me every week for wasting funds and now I’m what, not wasting enough of them? Which is it?”   

“Both, depending on the situation – and a capable experimentalist would know the difference.”

“I _am_ a capable experimentalist. I passed my qualifiers with flying colors, thank you.” Ben actually had; though he wasn’t supposed to divulge details, Luke had told him a few days after the department met to deliberate. “And the last time I checked, you weren’t on that committee.”

“Luckily for you.”

“Oh yeah, no doubt the red pen would’ve had me quaking in fear.”

Hux’s eyes held his own, fever-bright in their intensity. “ _Careful_ , Ben –”

No amount of funding was worth this.

His hand rose without permission from his brain, cupping the skin of Hux’s cheek as he cut off the other man’s tirade with his lips. Height of rudeness? Absolutely. But Ben was beyond fucking caring, his world shrinking to the faint fluttering of his funding going out the window and the incredible softness of the lips under his own.

A second stretched to two, stretched to three, and just when Ben thought Hux was pulling away, he realized that no, the man was pressing closer, eyes falling closed as a matching hand came up to bury itself in Ben’s hair. He didn't pull, but for a split second, Ben _wanted_ him to, wanted to feel the sharp tug that meant _this was real and this was happening_. His own brain stuttering to keep up, Ben drew one of Hux’s lips between his teeth before letting it go, kissing him deeply like he'd daydreamed of doing a thousand times. Sure, he was hardly pinning Hux to the nearest convenient flat surface, ravaging his mouth while his fingers slowly stretched his ass, but one had to start somewhere. Poised half between desperate and probing, the tips of tongues curiously glancing against one another – it was the last kind of first kiss Ben had ever imagined having with someone like Hux.

After a moment, Hux pulled away, pleasantly dazed. This kiss had left his lips slightly reddened, half-parted and wet.

Ben was sure his own face just screamed shocked awe, fumbling for words. That wasn’t supposed to have worked.

Fingers still gripping the back of his neck, Hux cast his gaze over Ben's face and cracked a smirk. “I think that wraps the business side of things up for today then.”

Surprised was the last thing Belt felt when their lips crashed together once more.

\----

Hypotheses were funny things.

From his initial data set, Ben had hypothesized that working with Hux was going to be the professional and academic equivalent of draining the ocean with a spoon – immensely time-consuming, seemingly pointless, and ultimately unproductive. But, like any good scientist, he’d put his hypothesis to the test, even if the exact means of doing so more resembled throwing caution to the wind and taking a gamble than any controlled experiment.

Still, luckily for him and the promise of two letters before his name, it had paid off.

The third time, only a week later now that his meetings had been changed from once a month to once a week, he’d barely had to knock before the door flew open.

To be quite honest, given that he’d spent the second hour of his last meeting with Hux perched sideways and more than a little uncomfortably on his lap, one bony hip digging into his cock and pinning it against his thigh – Ben hadn’t expected any less. In fact if it wouldn’t have looked a little odd, Ben had no doubt Hux would have been waiting outside his office, arms crossed and foot tapping out the record of every second Ben transgressed past the agreed upon time.

Door ajar, the expression on Hux’s face would have been a beaming smile on anyone else’s. On him, the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth and the relaxing of the lines of his forehead damn near approached relieved _joy_.

Yet obviously, despite that, Hux couldn’t let things slide. “You’re five minutes late.”

“Glad to see you too,” Ben muttered as he passed by Hux, hearing the door close and lock click behind him. He dumped his bag on the chair, letting the smug grin leak into his voice. “Worried I wasn’t coming?”

Ben turned around, only to have a split-second’s notice before Hux’s lips covered his own.

Warm and soft, they parted and deepened the kiss, one of Hux’s arms sliding around his waist as the other retreated to the back of his neck. Notes of cologne melded with the taste of the man himself, clouding Ben’s senses and making him wonder when was the last time he’d wanted to bury his mouth in the crook of someone’s shoulder and suck. Conveniently for him, the spot was technically quite reachable, if he wanted to move there next. Not for the first time, Ben thanked whoever was listening that there existed men as tall and lanky as himself, and found a small corner of his brain struggling to compute the odds of their meeting even as the soft wetness of Hux’s tongue tried to obliterate any rational thoughts.

Hux pulled away after a moment, lips just brushing his.

“Yes.”

The reply was simple, mere puff of breath belying the doubt riddling and fracturing the gaze holding his own.

Taking a moment to recall what exactly had been the question, chased as it had been from his brain, Ben could imagine the thoughts ricocheting through Hux’s mind. He’d had many of them himself in the past few nights, he was sure.

The fact that Hux had been _worried_ , desperately wanting him to continue their little charade – Ben could only salivate over the idea of what justifications Hux must have come up with for why Ben wouldn’t. They’d probably be self-flagellating, rooted in the deep-seated insecurities Hux’s flushed face had only hinted at in their first meeting.

Someday, maybe later that day, he’d ask.

For now, though, Ben murmured against the other man’s lips, “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Ben could barely believe it himself, every sensible fiber of his being screaming at him to take advantage of the situation – parley Hux’s obvious attraction to him for a return to freedom. No reports, no meetings, no more having to stare at his regretfully handsome face or engage in verbal warfare with a man Ben had grudgingly admitted was as smart, if not smarter, than himself.

Only he didn’t.

Cracking his own smile, Ben looped an arm around Hux’s slender waist. He side-stepped and switched their positions, remarkably without jostling or toppling Hux, as he’d figured his usual gracelessness gave him a twenty percent chance of doing. For his part, Hux responded smoothly to the unspoken command, his feet dancing around Ben’s own with surprising ease, ass hitting the edge of his desk. Leaning into the arm around his back, he settled on the wood, slowly parting his thighs as his gaze held Ben’s. Playing up the effect, the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Hux was really _trying._ It was almost sweet.

Despite the warm and breathing body in his arms, Ben found his attention caught elsewhere. He could have sworn the desk was – not more cluttered, but definitely more _full_ – when he’d visited last week. Most of the papers had been cleared, the stacked bins shifted farther to the edges than he remembered.

_Well then._

“Prepared for this, Hux?” Ben asked, imagining Hux carefully rearranging the contents of his desk. Always prepared for whatever might happen. Wishing, _hoping_ , for what might happen. “Putting everything away in case I, what, decided to take you, _fuck you,_ ” he punctuated the words with a sucking kiss to Hux’s neck, making good on his earlier thoughts, “right on your desk?”

“Hardly that,” Hux stammered, but the rising flush to his cheeks, the unsteady suck of air, exposed his interest in the idea. As did the slowly tenting front of his pressed slacks, cock pressing against the fabric and aching for touch.

His touch. _Ben’s_.

No one ever wanted Ben’s touch.

His own breath quickening, Ben settled at a point along his throat, less cologne and more _Hux_ flooding his senses, sucking a bruise that wouldn’t be entirely covered by his collar. He wanted to keep the other man talking, rich voice curling into his gut and tugging at the line of desire that ran further downward. “What then?”

“I –“ Hux stopped short, breath coming out in a soft rush. “Nothing. I had no plans.”

The fact that the bait was ignored had Ben deflating a little, but he recouped. Moving upwards, Ben nipped at the pulse point just below Hux’s jaw, crowding his body further against the desk. Ben straddled Hux’s thigh, one of his own coming to rest against the decided hardness agonizingly visible in its tight confines. The fact that Hux didn’t complain, merely expelled a shaky breath that might have been a gasp, told Ben all he needed to know.

The hand curved around Hux’s waist crept downward, singling out the gentle rise of his ass for a firm squeeze. Kneading one cheek, tailored cut of the slacks doing nothing to conceal how little there was, even pushed up by the desk, Ben breathed a laugh against Hux’s skin.

“Goddamn you really are skinny.” Hardly the picture of the perfect soldier.

He could feel Hux stiffening in his arms, wondering if he’d been dealt an insult. “And?”

“Relax.” Ben only squeezed tighter, cupping as much as he could. “I like it.”

Tension ebbing, Ben returned to Hux’s mouth, hand smoothing over the expensive fabric to clutch his hip. Hux approached kissing like he apparently did everything else – took detailed mental notes and learned frighteningly quick, all to exploit each and every weakness. Ben felt picked apart, analyzed, practically able to see the databanks on _Ben Solo_ growing exponentially by the minute. Each slide of his tongue, hint of his teeth, had Ben sinking deeper into the pit that was months of pent up desire.

The full force of it had him almost moaning.

Ben had never considered himself to be good at kissing. Passable, sure, given the relative dearth of experience for a man his age. But Hux?

Hux was _good_.

Already hard, he rubbed himself against Hux’s thigh, wondering what it would be like to replace said pressure with that of his hand. Enjoying it as he was, which was quite fucking much, he still ached to see Hux crack, to drive a wedge into the soft places and pry until he shattered. The thought had personally escorted him to many an orgasm, painting in elaborate detail what Hux might look like, _sound_ like, breaking apart as he rode Ben’s cock. He wanted to strip away the haughty demeanor and leave Hux a shivering mess, begging for any scrap Ben deigned to give him.

And he'd make him beg; if not now, soon. That was for certain. 

All delightful images aside though, the office wasn’t exactly the place for that sort of thing. That didn't mean he had no options.

Ben’s hand continued on its journey, drawing from the bruising hold he’d taken on Hux’s hip to the restrained bulge against his thigh. Palming him through the fabric, the kiss faltered, Hux losing his rhythm and expert ministrations as he groaned into Ben’s mouth. Their teeth clicked.

That was more like it.

His other hand joined the first, cupping firmly, grinding the heel of his palm against the bulge. It took a hot second and a quick dance of his fingers to loosen the button, drawing the zipper down with agonizing slowness. One fingertip trailed lightly in its wake.

With Hux’s help he pushed the slacks farther down slim thighs, revealing a plain pair of boxer briefs. A sizable wet spot already marred the fabric. Ben's gaze snagged on that little detail, throat stoppering, and upon noticing it himself, Hux only blushed and glanced away. He wasted little time in baring himself, as much to draw attention away from just how desperate Ben's touch had made him as carry on. Finally free from the tight briefs, his cock sprang to attention, flushed and already leaking.

Unable to do anything but stare at first, Ben galvanized his hand to _move_ , wrapping around Hux’s length and drawing forth a moan. Ben didn’t consider himself an expert at this either, but the quickening pace as he pumped, drawing out the return, seemed to be enough.

“You like this.” Ben fought to keep the question out of his voice. Given the way Hux leaned into him, panting, fingers scrabbling where they'd taken up on his waist and arm, he had to be pretty close.

“Yes,” Hux hissed, eyes slammed closed. “Christ yes.”

“I’ve thought about this,” Ben admitted, “ever since I first saw you. God you talked so fucking much. Wanted to bend you over a table, shut you up with my cock. See those pretty lips wrapped around me.”

Hux gasped in response, face screwing up in pleasure. “Fuck, _Ben_ , I’m - “

A low moan from pursed lips, stifled so the whole place wouldn't hear them, and come spurted over his knuckles as he milked Hux through his orgasm, muscles in the other man’s torso seizing with the force of it. Ben burned the image into his mind, eyes trailing on the flush that peeked out from Hux's unbuttoned collar. Touch slowing, gently guiding him down, Ben could only breathe, blood rushing in his ears.

He didn’t know what he had expected... but it was probably for Hux to last longer than thirty seconds.

Much like every other emotion Ben failed at hiding, the pleased surprise must have bled through to his face, because Hux laughed a little breathlessly. He wouldn't quite meet Ben's eyes. "Well that was rather embarrassing."

"I was going to say _hot_ , but..." The first signs of a smile curled Hux's mouth at the compliment, entirely meant to be honest, and Ben added, "Been awhile, huh?"

"You have no idea." 

Chuckling, Ben reached for a tissue, the box at the other end of the desk. "Trust me, pretty sure I know the feeling." 

\---

Data begat data, in Ben’s experience. An experiment was performed and the results used to inform the design of the next one, linking a long line of queries and answers, each one deeper and more intriguing than the step that came before it. 

With such an idea in mind, he’d slipped a condom into his wallet before he’d left his apartment that morning, body practically vibrating with nervous and excited energy. Work had crawled by, his day consumed with Hux no matter how he tried to focus elsewhere. The bitten-back moan replayed in his dreams, the soft rush of breath and come and the warm, solid heat on the man in his arms clung to the underside of his thoughts like honey. Quite frankly, he had never felt so _alive._ All told he was looking forward to it, even if he hoped it at least meant heading back to one of their apartments. He'd even volunteer his own, though he had a feeling Hux might go apoplectic upon seeing the mess - in fact, that was part of the draw. Still, Hux’s clinically clean office was hardly the kind of place to get him hot and bothered.

But, reality wasn’t perfect; there were always snags. Always unforeseen hurdles the scientist and engineer must structure around.

This, apparently, was his.

The fourth meeting, the door hadn’t opened quite so readily.

He’d knocked and had to show himself in, not even so much as a muffled permission given. The spout of dread turned in his gut, pooling and whispering _this was it_.

Door swung ajar and closed in one smooth motion, lock turned, Hux waited for him against the lip of his desk. Only it was like looking at the negative image of their last encounter, Hux’s enthusiasm and submission replaced by a cold and uncomfortable rigidity lining every fiber. Black dress shirt tucked into his grey slacks, arms crossed. Face blank, he was all too still – a marionette suspended by his strings.

This wasn’t exactly how Ben had seen this going.

Anxiety clawing at his chest, he tried to play it cool. Maybe as the observer of his personal reality, his simple strength of will would shape it to fit his expectations.

Maybe.

Ben reached for Hux, making to slip his arms around the inviting ring of his waist. Another pair of hands stilled the motion, catching his wrists and pushing them lightly away.

“Brilliant.”

Ben, a little sluggish in confusion, only managed, “What?”

Hux looked askance, gaze seizing on anything but Ben’s. He pulled at a nonexistent thread in one sleeve cuff. “Your work is brilliant. And I’m excited to see its progression.”

“Thank you?”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me.” Hux cleared his throat, finally managing to look Ben in the eye. “I let my personal interests get the better of me. I set up this three ring circus so I could, for lack of a better phrase,” he shrugged half-heartedly,” get to know you.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open, working to form sound and coming up empty. Understanding, full understanding, seemed to lag behind. He could feel tinder striking flint inside his chest, the shifting of tectonic plates that meant magma was about to reach the surface.

As if to cut just in front of the wall of flame that was sure to come, Hux rushed on, “However, the last thing I want you to feel is obligated, so I’ve relinquished oversight of your project to a colleague of mine. Major Henry is certainly qualified and much more easy-going, I think you will find.” He paused, expelling a breath, heavy and slow. “You won’t have to see me again.”

For a blinding moment, Ben wanted just that.

Sleepless nights, rethinking his career path and self-worth, enough rage to light a bonfire and a half – for what? To be a pawn, a manipulated plaything of a man who thought himself above every single other member of humanity. Ben opened his mouth, feeling the rise of magma in his chest, ready to lay into the man standing entirely too stiff and straight and waiting for just such a thing to happen. 

But then the low moan, choked and desperate, as Hux had come sloppily over his knuckles echoed in his head. The sharp ache of his own wanting, the rapid beat of his heart and the slightly awkward, embarrassed laughter. The rest of the week feeling like he was flying, because someone wanted _him_ and for once it wasn't an idle daydream, an impossible thought. And suddenly, the fire guttered out, and Ben didn’t quite know what to think.

He sunk onto the chair.

Hux remained standing, body taut as a live wire. The man was a bastard, a hyper-critical, hypocritical, exacting bastard – and somehow, exactly what Ben had been looking for. Raking over the stupidly bright red hair that clashed with everything he wore and manifested as the most delicate of lashes, downcast and brushing against a pale visage, Ben's heart skipped a proverbial beat.

Hypotheses changed.

Protocols changed.

And ultimately, life wasn’t about satisfying a preconceived notion. It hinged on gathering new data, on seeing an opportunity and taking it.

Ben felt the words leaving his mouth before he even remembered thinking them. “Buy me a coffee.”

Hux started, and Ben got the feeling he kept his arms crossed so they wouldn’t shake. Relief clouded his voice, though he tried to hide it. “And why is that exactly?”

Ben wet his lips, figuring that for a man as awkward as he was, this was as smooth of a pick-up line opportunity he was going to get.

“Because I already bought you one.” Ben allowed a certain measure of smugness to lace his tone. “You just didn’t pull your head out of your ass long enough during my proposal to take it.”

The soft scoff, more of a snort though Hux would never admit to it, came quick. The relieved punctuation at the end of what might have been a death sentence. “Now?”

Ben grinned.

“Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing [punkidrawsstuff](http://punkidrawsstuff.tumblr.com/) ! (Also, come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr too)

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the amazing [punkidrawsstuff](http://punkidrawsstuff.tumblr.com/) ! (Also feel free to come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr too)


End file.
